by Cait London
Beth shrugged, that hard, determined look on her face. “I’m not qualified for anything that pays good, and I don’t want to screw up Nick’s business. I’ll be around, but it won’t help your business to be seen with me. I know about class distinction and money making. And you look like you could use some money. Take it easy.”
“Beth?”
“Hmm?”
Maggie stuffed the feng shui frog and the mandella into Beth’s backpack. “For luck.”
Maybe she should have given her sister more support of any kind, instead of condemning her for her affair. Maybe she should have understood how a predator could fasten onto Glenda’s insecurities and use them. Never strong in her self-worth, Glenda was perfect for the seduction that ruined her life.
Maggie couldn’t deny her feelings for Beth—to protect and help, and just maybe to love as her own sister.
For a moment, Beth’s youth and softness slid through the hard look. “Are you sure you want to give me these? You might need them for good luck.”
“I’m going to be okay. I had to start a new life, and yours is waiting there for you, too.”
Stark pain washed across Beth’s face. “I’ve blown it. My life is crap.”
“No, you haven’t. I know. And Celeste thinks you’re wonderful. So there’s the two of us. How many do you need to believe in you?”
“How many to turn a dumb blond’s light bulb, right?” Beth asked sadly.
“We can do it, Beth. All of us together. In my way, I need you.” If I couldn’t help Glenda, maybe I could help you and then myself…
When Beth was gone, Maggie sat down to hold Scout and allowed the tears to come. “I miss Glenda so much, Scout. I shouldn’t try to make Beth into my little sister, and yet I can’t help myself. What if I would make the same mistakes again? Is this about what she needs, or about what I need, another chance to save someone like my sister and to do it right this time?”
Maggie cared more for others than for herself. To harm them first would make a payment on what she owed him…to make her know that she caused their deaths…
Far from San Francisco, on a long stretch of Interstate, Brent tightened the garrote on the prostitute. Now tied to the bed and squirming beneath him, she’d been easy enough to spot at the Interstate’s truck stop, so easy to get into the motel, so eager to feed her drug habit. He’d needed to get away from the city to feed his own personal habit, practicing the murder of Maggie.
“Tell me you love me,” he ordered, angry that she wasn’t Maggie—or someone Maggie knew.
How often had he played this game with Glenda and others?
But pseudo-Maggies never really completed the game. No woman’s voice had ever matched hers, their bodies not as sleek or powerful.
He had to be careful and not let his obsession rule him too soon, controlling his need to punish Maggie.
He fought himself and yet when the prostitute croaked that she loved him, sex rose and consumed him. When he returned to control, the woman lay dead and limp beneath him.
Garbage, not like Maggie at all, he thought. Maggie would have fought more, given him more pleasure. This woman was low-life garbage that he had to manipulate into the trunk of his car, driving to an isolated place to dump her.
“Maggie, this is all because of you,” he whispered cheerfully later, as he drove away from the woman’s shallow grave. “You’re out there. I feel you breathing. It’s your fault if others die because of you.”
Nick took his time in the shower; he was sweaty and tired and restless. The sap was moving in the grapevines, warming to the sun, and he wasn’t exactly certain that the same thing wasn’t happening to him—kissing Maggie, holding her, had only made him want more.
He tried to turn his mind to business. The mortgage was due, and despite himself, he wanted to meet the buyer for the rich client as Lorna had offered. With the wine-tasting festivals and the fall fairs coming up, he might make a few connections, but satisfied wealthy customers who bought by the caseload were the best promotions.
But Maggie kept coming back to his mind. He tried not to remember the way she had crooned as she bathed, a feminine symphony of orgasmic sounds that haunted his nights.
He dried, tugged on his boxer shorts, and slung the towel around his shoulders just as he heard a dog’s excited barking. He opened the back door and Scout raced in to jump on him. Nick shoved the dog in play, and Scout raced around the house. “Hey, she’s not going to like this.”
Maggie’s pickup pulled beside his; she slammed the door and then walked to him. “Scout ran away. I let her out before going to bed, and she took off.”
Nick opened the door wider to reveal the laundry baskets behind him, knocked aside with clean clothing tangled on the floor. Scout came to sit on the clothing, her tongue dangling in a happy dog smile.
“I am sorry. Come here, Scout. Let’s go home.”
“So I hear that you had a visit from Lorna.”
Maggie patted her jeaned thigh, a gesture that Scout should come. “Beth told you, no doubt.”
“It was quite the sight—Beth in those wobbly wedgie heel things, trudging across the vineyard at night. She wants to protect you. Her lecture to me was pithy, to say the least. Apparently my talk with Lorna didn’t register. I’ll try again.”
“She doesn’t bother me. I’ve been through worse…Nick, can you help Beth? I mean, get her a job and out of what she’s doing?”
Nick wondered about the “worse.” “I tried. That toughness is just her way of protecting her low self-esteem. She doesn’t believe how good she really is.”
“I don’t want anything more to happen to her,” Maggie stated firmly.
“Neither do I. You seem focused on Beth. She’s the first person you’ve asked about. There’s something in her that you respond to. But what about you? What happened to you that could make you want to protect Beth more than any other woman? Does she remind you of someone?”
Maggie looked up at him, her expression guarded. “Come on, Scout,” she repeated. “Let’s go home.”
“Okay, once more you’ve effectively shut me off—this time. You don’t want to answer questions and you’re not sticking around if I ask more. But Maggie, I have just one more—is there some reason you are not looking lower than my face?” Nick asked and reached out to touch her flushed cheek.
“You’re big and you’re only wearing boxer shorts. You haven’t shaved. You look tough. There’s water on your shoulders. That scar goes straight down the side of your thigh.”
The sensual tug went straight to the area beneath Nick’s shorts. “Anything else?”
“I want my dog.”
Take it easy, Nick warned himself as her eyes darkened, and that funny little quiver moved through her taut body. If he reached for her, took her mouth beneath his—
Nick reached for a T-shirt and tugged it on. The jeans that followed helped confine a heaviness that needed easing. “So how’s business?”
Maggie seemed to relax a bit. “Slow.”
Keep it light, Nick thought. “It will pick up. People here are cautious. You’ll find there’s a difference between summer people and the ones who have lived here a long time. I’m getting ready to watch an old movie. Care to watch it with me? I’ll pop some corn.”
“I have an early morning client. I’d better be going. Thanks.”
When Scout moved toward Maggie, Nick knew his time was short. “Mom and Dad’s anniversary is in a week. You’re invited. They’re closing the restaurant for the night. Come if you can. Bring Beth and Celeste. It seems you’ve made good friends with them. They like the food.”
She hesitated and nodded. “Maybe.”
“Maggie?” Nick asked as she turned. “There’s just one thing more.”
Her lips were smooth and warm beneath his, slightly parted and sweet. The gentle taste of hunger caused him to linger to savor the rich-bodied flavor just beneath—vanilla and blackberry spice, he decided, mellow yet with just that nip to
add character…
“What do you want from me, Nick?” she asked against his lips.
“To know you.”
The woman in her was wise. “You want more than that.”
“Yes,” he answered honestly, smoothing back the tendril that brushed her cheek. All the questions that he needed answered were carefully, momentarily placed aside. “Yes, Maggie, I do. I need someone with your laundry talent,” he added to soften the need deep within him. “I’ll cook and do the dishes. You do laundry. Yours, too.”
She smiled at the invitation, just a bit of entrancing warmth curling around her lips and eyes. “Ask your mother to help you. Let’s go, Scout.”
Nick watched her leave into the night. “Run, Maggie, run. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Why was Maggie so curious about Beth, wanting to help her? She seemed more interested in ways to help Beth than herself. Did Beth remind her of someone dear? Was there a link between that someone and the locket that Maggie held when she was troubled? And how did Beth fit into Maggie’s past and her closed doors?
One thing was certain and could not be placed aside—his need for Maggie despite all her mysteries.
The nightmare churned around Maggie, clawing at her. Glenda sobbing, aching for her children, needing money for her habit…Glenda high on drugs, or hungover and beaten in a sleazy hotel…Glenda, cold and pale on that morgue bench…
A man’s bitter words tearing at Maggie, hurting her…betraying her. Another man laughing at her, the men together—two friends, her ex-husband and another, keeping her away from Glenda. Maggie reached for Beth and found her sister, sweet and caring, a loving mother—Scout was barking…
Then Maggie was drowning—
She awoke to her own scream and Scout barking at the camper door to the loud insistent knock. Out of breath, Maggie lay for a moment, listening to Nick’s voice. “Maggie? Open the door!”
Over the sound of her heartbeat, birds were chirping and dawn pried at the thin curtains. Maggie struggled out of the tangled sheet, stood too quickly, and bumped her head on a cabinet. She rubbed the pain and sat down on the bed. “Scout, stop barking.”
The door rattled and Nick called again, “Maggie?”
“I’m fine. Just a minute.”
“You’d better be fine,” he said darkly when she opened the door. His hands were on his hips and he was dressed for running. “That scream said you weren’t. I was running into town and I could hear it clear out on the road. It sounded like you were terrified, like you were being attacked. What’s wrong?”
She rubbed her head. “So I have nightmares and I talk in my sleep. Who doesn’t?”
Nick’s expression was grim, his black eyebrows gleaming with sweat and a scowl. “Not like that.”
“Leave me alone. Just get on with your run. You didn’t have to stop anyway. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.” She started to close the door, only to have Nick hold it open.
“You’re driving me nuts,” he stated as his gaze slowly took in her T-shirt and bare legs.
“Likewise.” Maggie continued rubbing the pain in her scalp.
“Let me look at your head. What happened?”
He reached for her and pushed her head down, inspecting the area she had been rubbing.
She felt like a sullen child—admonished and inspected for a bruise she could have avoided. “I know how to take care of myself.”
Nick lifted her head with his hand, turning her face side to side. “I’m used to taking care of my brother’s kids. You’re acting like one. So who is Glenda? You called out her name and you’ve been crying.”
For just that instant, Maggie wanted to slip into his arms and feel his strength. Her affection and fear for Beth had triggered the awful past and Glenda’s horrible path to destruction. “You can go now.”
Scout was pushing out the door, leaping on Nick. Nick smiled and waggled the dog’s head, pushing her down. Scout barked and ran in a circle, then leaped on Nick again.
Maggie closed the door and sat on her couch, trying to adjust from her nightmare to the man outside the camper. In a few minutes, the door opened and Nick ordered Scout to get in. When he spoke to Maggie, Nick’s voice was rough with anger and sarcasm. “Have a nice day, Maggie. Mom and Dad are wondering about you. Drop in if you can.”
After Nick left, Maggie sat, petting Scout, who looked hopeful. “Okay, I like him, too. But you can’t go over there when you want. We can’t get involved. There’s this man-woman thing going on with Nick, and he’s just a nice guy who misses his wife. Let’s just not get tangled up in that, okay? It wouldn’t be good for anyone. Don’t you go to his house anymore, do you hear?”
Nick. Easygoing, nice-to-look-at man who was still in love with his wife. Neither one of them needed complications—
Nick smoothed the side of an oak barrel, then ran his hand over its bunghole. He appreciated the cool, dark aging cellar, the few barrels upon which he hoped to build a fine reserve wine. Almost two years ago, the grapes’ sugar content had been perfect for the wine that Nick wanted as his trademark specialty, good enough to take to the international competitions.
On the other side, boxes of various Alessandro bottled wines ready for shipping held his dreams of a major competing vineyard. The wines would be judged by experts at fairs and universities, at culinary events and regional competitions. Placing in the competitions raised the profile of Alessandro Winery, and building his business to an international level would take time.
Patience and time with Maggie was something else; the leash on his sensual need was close to breaking.
He’d tasted the woman beneath the protective exterior and he’d seen her tears, that shattered, helpless expression when she’d opened the camper door.
Glenda. Maggie had cried out the name, a terrified call, without anger.
Nick had wanted to tug her into his arms, to hold her safe.
But then, he just might be confusing her with Alyssa, and that wouldn’t do at all…
SEVEN
“If you leave now, I’m leaving with you.” Maggie reached for Beth’s hand when she felt the girl start to draw back.
“Well, that would ruin my chance for a fun time with my friends,” Celeste said.
In contrast to the usually quiet and candlelit Alessandros Italian Restaurant, the dining room was alive with light. Dean Martin’s voice crooned over children’s yells, men and women talking. Rosa and Anthony were busy at a table of food, while Dante had his arms loosely around two women as they swayed to the music. Tony had a child up on his shoulders, with his wife, Sissy, snuggled up to him, clearly in love.
Beth’s words mirrored her dark, resentful expression. “It’s an anniversary, for crying out loud, a family ‘do,’ grandparents, parents, and kids—babies, Maggie. Kids and babies. I’ve got no right to be here. I let Nick down—”
Maggie wondered briefly about Beth’s comment, but the blast of noise and people in the restaurant wiped the thought away. For once, Scout sat by her feet, not resisting the leash.
She tried not to look for Nick, but her quick scan of the crowd said he was busy, behind the bar, laughing as he refilled wineglasses. Framed by the dark polished wood, the glittering hanging wineglasses, he was big and gorgeous and heart-quivering masculine. Under the bright lights, his hair gleamed, waving neatly, the black long-sleeved sweater matching his rugged look.
Marco loomed in front of her, cutting off Maggie’s view of Nick. “Hey, girls. Glad you’re here. I’ve got a good knuckle bone for Scout in the back, if that’s okay, Maggie. I’ll just take her out the front door and around the back. This crowd is thick and vicious, packed with kids and sticky hands and women in high-heeled shoes.”
When Maggie looked at the bar, Nick was gone and her friends were talking.
“Beth, you talk too much, and I’m hungry. Maggie works me like a dog. I deserve this and if you’re part of the package, you’re coming with us,” Celeste said easily and from behind the girl, n
udged her forward into the filled and noisy restaurant.
Beth refused to budge, staring at the dining room of people. “Bossy old biddy—”
Celeste laughed at Beth’s resentful tone. “Okay, do it for Maggie then.”
Maggie squeezed Beth’s hand. She didn’t understand her need for Beth, but it lay there, sweet and tender, easing the uncertainty inside her. “I want you both here. Rosa made a special point of coming to Ole’s and inviting me. The Alessandros have been nice to me and I won’t offend them.”
“I still don’t get why I have to—”
“Because we’re all the family Maggie has,” Celeste stated quietly.
Beth gripped Maggie’s and Celeste’s hands. “You got me into this. You stick by me or I’m leaving. That’s the deal.”
Rosa was making her way toward them, her smile warm and happy, her arms outstretched. She hugged each one of them. “Welcome to our home, our family. I am so happy you are here. Come eat. Drink some of Nick’s wine, and share with us. We are so lucky—Anthony and me, so blessed.”
She turned to her husband, who was carrying a tray of food. “Anthony, come welcome our guests.”
Maggie barely registered his greeting when across the crowded, noisy room, she found Nick. He was wearing black jeans that matched his sweater. He held a sleepy, black-haired toddler in the crook of his arm, rocking it with the sway of his body. When the child nestled against his chest, he kissed its black curls with the ease of a man who gave affection easily.
He was a family man, meant to have a wife who fit into his life, and children…
As though drawn by her stare, he looked at Maggie, and his laughing smile slowly died. From across the room, the searing heat in his eyes caught her, held her, and closed away the noise of the room.
The primitive jerk of her senses told her that he wanted her right then, hot and raw and hungry to satisfy them both.
Maggie forced herself to breathe, to lick her suddenly dry lips. She couldn’t look away from that hot, dark intensity that said nothing could keep him from her.
